


Oxford Comma

by Lunamionny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Comedy, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Sex Positive Hermione, Smut, Stress Relief, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunamionny/pseuds/Lunamionny
Summary: When Theo recognises how very stressed Hermione is about their upcoming NEWTs, he suggests a rather unconventional way that he could help her relax.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 62
Kudos: 146
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	Oxford Comma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts), [Art3misiA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/gifts).



> For LadyKenz347 and Art3misiA as part of LoveFest2020. I hope you enjoy this little bit of Theomione smut and silliness! 
> 
> The fic was partly inspired by the song ‘Oxford Comma’ by Vampire Weekend, and partly inspired by a very short scene in the Netflix comedy drama 'Sex Education' (which I very much recommend for more smut and silliness).
> 
> Huge thanks to the wonderful Frumpologist for her alpha and beta-ing love!

The noise was infuriating. 

Sat hunched over a disorderly pile of books and parchment, Hermione lifted her head and slid her eyes towards Theodore Nott. He was sitting on his own, several seats down from her on the opposite side of the table, with that new-fangled invention of George’s - _Magical Musical Muffs_ , or ‘Triple Ms’ as some people called them - stuffed in his ears. They were tiny contraptions, smaller than a sickle, which played whatever music one had magicked into them. 

“ _Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?_ ” Nott sang to instrumentals only he could hear. “ _I’ve seen those English dramas too-oooo…_ ” 

His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but in the quietness of the library, it was distracting to the point of madness. And anyway, it was the _principle_ of the thing! One should not be making such a racket in the library where people were trying to study. Hermione’s heartbeat ratcheted up in indignation. 

“ _So if there's any other way, to spell the word, it's fine with meee-eee,_ ” Nott continued his incessant warbling. 

He nodded his head in tune to the music, leafing nonchalantly through a large tome in front of him. Hermione openly glared in his direction, hoping she could somehow stop his singing with merely her eyes. Her gaze rested on his hair, and she found herself wondering, were she to stroke her hands through his curls, would they spring up again into the same position, or would they stay flattened as a result of her ministrations?... What would it feel like - to touch his hair like that? It looked rather shiny. And smooth -

_“All your diction, dripping with disdain... through the pain, I always tell the truth...”_

He seemed completely oblivious to the fact he was making any noise at all, let alone might be disturbing anyone. She wondered if he was the type of person that sang in the shower... as water and soap suds rolled over his shoulders, down the dips and curves of a no doubt taut chest and stomach to - 

“Urgh!” Hermione emitted a small noise of frustration, turned back to her books and tried desperately to focus on the words in front of her.

“ _Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma_?” Theo sang the same lyrics for what felt like the millionth time.

This. Just. Would. Not. Do. 

Before she realised what she was doing, Hermione jumped up from her seat, marched over to where Nott was sitting and flicked her wand at his head. The _Magical Musical Muffs_ flew from his ears and burst into flames mid-air before landing on the table between them, charred and smouldering. 

“ _I_ do! _I_ give a fuck about an Oxford comma. _Me!_ I give _many_ fucks!” Hermione exclaimed shrilly. But the look of shock on Nott’s face calmed her somewhat. “They can be very useful...in complex sentences…” she added sheepishly.

Nott raised his eyebrows in bewilderment and then said in a calm, placating voice as if talking to a toddler who’d just had a tantrum, “What the fuck Granger?” He gestured to the smoking carcasses of his _Musical Muffs._ “Those Triple Ms were the latest model. They cost me four galleons. _And_ you nearly burnt my ears off.” 

Hermione’s heart rate was slowing and she realised she may have overreacted a teeny bit. 

“You were singing in the _library_ . And it was _more_ than distracting,” she explained defensively. 

Nott frowned and cocked his head to the side, looking at her curiously as if he were a scientist and she a new specimen he’d just discovered.

“Your reaction does not seem entirely in proportion to events,” he mused. “Are you okay, Granger? You seem, maybe...a bit stressed?” The question was asked with genuine concern. 

“Of course I’m _stressed_!” Hermione exclaimed. Didn’t he know NEWT exams started next week?!

Nott nodded slowly, as if deep in thought. “Right. Well. I was reading those mind healing papers on stress reduction strategies. And do you know what strategy has been shown to have the most consistent results?” 

“Sexual intercourse,” Hermione promptly replied, as if he were testing her on revision. She had only been studying that module the night before. 

He nodded again. “Yep. Maybe you could do with a good shag?” 

Unbidden, images suddenly invaded Hermione’s mind’s eye: of Nott naked on top of her, of him leaning down to kiss her...of running her nails down his back. Her cheeks felt hot and her knees weak -

She shook her head, attempting to clear it. “Urgh. That’s _not_ what I need. I just need a quiet environment so I can revise!” 

“Okay.” Nott held his hands up in a mock surrender gesture. It being summer, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and Hermione couldn't help but notice how his bicep muscles rippled as his arms moved. “You just needed to ask me to quieten down, no need to have Incendio’ed my ears.” 

“Okay...fine… .” Hermione turned away from him and started to walk back to her seat. “Thanks,” she added, because really, considering she’d destroyed his property and nearly rendered him deaf, he _was_ being rather gracious. 

“I would be happy to oblige? If you needed a partner? For the ...shagging?” Nott asked gently as she started to walk away. 

The images invaded her mind again...his large hand stroking the curve of her waist, his lips kissing her neck… Maybe...she probably _did_ need to relax — all the stress she was feeling was bound to be counter-productive to obtaining optimum NEWT results…

She abruptly turned back to him. “Fine. Fine. Let’s fuck. But we can’t take too long. I have a twenty minute window at two o’clock, between History of Magic and my Arithmancy study group. Would that time be convenient for you?”

Nott’s eyes widened in surprise. “I - erm - sure.”

“And you think you can be efficient about it?” 

Nott’s eyes glided up and down her body, his lips parting slightly. A pink hue invaded his cheeks, which Hermione found rather endearing. “Yeah,” - he swallowed, as if his mouth had gone dry - “Yeah, I do.”

“Good,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Meet me in the old History classroom at two then.” 

“Gotcha.” Nott flicked his hand towards her in a mock salute and Hermione finally managed to return to her studying. 

* * *

By the time two o’clock came round, Hermione had started to doubt whether the mind healing papers had got it right. Because since making the arrangement with Nott, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else except what it would be like to...what it would be like when she met him...and it had all been incredibly distracting. She had become rather hot and bothered at her own thoughts and was very much looking forward to getting it over and done with. 

So when Nott strode into the old History classroom a few minutes after two, Hermione locked the door with a single flick of her wand and approached him with purpose in her step, determined not to waste any time. 

“I think we should kiss first,” she stated. 

That endearing red hue bloomed on Nott’s cheeks again. “Okay,” he rasped. 

He was quite a bit taller than she was and so Hermione had to strain on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. A delightful jolt of pleasure coursed through her as the kiss deepened - it was better than she’d imagined. She felt a rush of wet heat between her legs, which caused her to moan into his mouth and fist her hand into his hair, feeling an urgency and intensity that surprised her. 

No doubt encouraged by the sounds she was making, Nott backed her into a desk, grabbed her gently but firmly around the waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the table. Hermione parted her legs, welcoming him, and let out a whimper as she felt his hardness press against her through his trousers. As Nott scrambled around attempting to untuck Hermione’s shirt, she quickly undid his trousers and sank a hand inside his boxer shorts. 

“Oh,” she breathed in surprise; his cock was a rather lovely size - more than adequate but not too much. 

As Nott let out a low groan at her movements of her attentive hand, Hermione surprised herself by wishing she had more time to spend just touching him, maybe sinking to her knees on the floor and taking him in her mouth. But the research had found that _orgasming through intercourse_ in particular was what reduced stress, and she really couldn’t be late for her Arithmancy study group.

She pulled back from the kiss. “I’d like you to fuck me from behind, over the desk,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

Nott, his chest rising and falling rapidly, raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. 

“I nearly always come that way,” Hermione explained. “It allows for deeper penetration, you see. Which is what I like.” 

Nott frowned. It was the same expression he’d had earlier in the library - the one which made it seem as if he was assessing her in some way. “Is this - are you - is this an attempt at dirty talk?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No,” she said, hopping off the desk as Nott took a small, accommodating step backwards. “It’s my attempt at _communication_ , which is key to an effective, healthy casual sex relationship. So - is that position okay? With you?” 

He visibly swallowed. “Erm - yeah.” 

Hermione nodded, turned, promptly leaned over the desk in front of her and hitched her skirt up to around her waist. “Would you like to take my knickers off or shall I?” 

She heard Nott clear his throat awkwardly. “Erm - I - I’ll do it.” 

She felt Nott’s warm hand stroke up her thigh, as the other one rested gently on the dip in her spine. Every nerve in her body seemed to pulse at his touch, and she found her breathing starting to quicken. Wet heat pooled between her legs again and her cunt started to throb, aching to be touched. 

Due to the angle that Hermione was leaning, her head was only an inch or so above the desk surface and she could make out a piece of graffiti etched into the wood: _Hermione Grangers a friged bitch._

She rolled her eyes - that must have been from the days at the end of her sixth year, when she’d refused to give Terry Boot a hand job and he hadn’t been too happy about it. She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the awful words, as Nott’s hand made a tortuously slow ascent up her thigh. 

“Nott - do you think we could speed things up a notch?” she asked. 

“Erm…sure, I just wasn’t sure if you’d be ready?” She felt his hand move up to between her legs and delicately move her knickers to one side. “Oh. You _are_ ready, aren’t you? You’re… you’re so wet.” 

Hermione could only whimper in answer as Nott’s fingers sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. She held her breath in anticipation as Nott slid her knickers down to the floor and she hurriedly stepped out of them. Then she stepped her legs apart and arched her back, indicating she wanted - _needed_ \- more from him. 

A rush of warmth flooded her body as she felt him run the tip of his cock through the wetness between her legs - from her entrance to her clit and back again. Hermione squirmed and pushed back against him. 

Then, finally, to her relief, he entered her and she felt the glorious, delicious sensation of him filling her up. She moaned in relief and instinctively opened her eyes. 

The graffiti - _Hermione Grangers a friged bitch_ \- flooded her vision. 

Urgh! 

She tried to ignore the words, as Nott continued to move inside her, causing her nerves to spark in pleasure and her knees to turn to water. She reached down to touch her clit, but Nott, aware of what she was doing, swatted her hand away and started circling it himself, with rather expert speed and pressure. 

She was close to the edge; could feel an exquisite tension building in her. She heard Nott’s gasping breaths, as his hand that wasn’t stroking her clit in delightful movements roamed up and down the top of her thigh, across her arse cheek and back again. 

_Hermione Grangers a friged bitch._

Hermione pressed her eyes shut, as if trying to squeeze the graffiti out of existence. 

“Harder,” she demanded to Nott, but then worried she might have sounded a bit too bossy, so added, “Please.” 

He grunted. “Do you like being made to beg, Hermione?” 

She gasped as his cock hit spots in her that she didn’t know existed. “No. I was just being polite,” she breathed in response. 

He made a guttural, primal sound of acknowledgment and then obeyed her demand and started pounding into her, hard and fast. _Yes. Like that. Exactly like that._ Hermione moaned and whimpered at the feel of this new rhythm. 

“I'm so close…” she murmured under her breath. “So, so close…” If only she could - 

_Hermione Grangers…_

“Anything - anything I can do?” Theo gasped out. 

“I just - I just need to -” 

Hermione gave into the urge that she’d had since first reading the graffiti, and started fumbling in her skirt pocket for her wand. Nott slowed his movements as she did so.

Once her wand was safely clasped in her hand, she waved it at the graffiti.

An apostrophe appeared between the ‘r’ and the ‘s’ in ‘Grangers’, and the ‘e’ in ‘friged’ morphed into an ‘i’, so instead the phrase read: 

_Hermione Granger’s a frigid bitch_. 

Hermione smiled at her work, and a wave of satisfaction and relief flooded her, as if everything that had been wrong with the world had been righted. She laid her wand on the table and mumbled to herself, “That’s so much better.” Then, louder, she said, “As you were, Nott.” 

Nott quickened his pace again and this time it wasn't long before a crashing wave of heat rolled over Hermione’s body, the walls of tension that had built up in her over _weeks_ of studying finally imploded in one delicious, euphoric collapse. She gasped and cried and shuddered as she came.

As Nott groaned and trembled through his own orgasm, Hermione realised she felt boneless and more relaxed than she could remember feeling in months. 

Sex really was, it seemed, a great de-stressing strategy.

She really must do it again. If Nott were to oblige.


End file.
